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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684629">Every Moment With You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Amarathine_Carrion/pseuds/The_Amarathine_Carrion'>The_Amarathine_Carrion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Come Eating, Dom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Shibari, Squirting, Sylvain is a catboy, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Vaginal Fingering, and some boot humping, dick stepping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:34:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Amarathine_Carrion/pseuds/The_Amarathine_Carrion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylvain only had one request, and the rest was up to Felix.</p><p>“Please...keep the boots on.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Every Moment With You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sylvain only had one request, and the rest was up to Felix.</p><p>“<em>Please...keep the boots on</em>.” </p><p>A request that was far more ridiculous than seductive, Felix bemoans silently. The temporary freedom, relieved from all of the traditional clothing a damned Duke was expected to wear, just for Sylvain to beg him to put his thigh highs back on? Far too much of a hassle for Felix to consider worthwhile, but if Sylvain wanted it badly enough to pull his mouth away—breathless—choking on the plea, he wasn’t about to deny the heathen permission.</p><p>It’s far too easy to allow Felix’s hands to wander ahead of him. Far from Sylvain’s nature to set hard limits. A good thing then, that this had served as an interruption. A good thing, that Sylvain had found him in his office when he did, slid his stupid, steady hand far up into the confines of Felix’s ponytail— catching the engraved golden ring on the edge of the leather band. A good thing Felix wasn’t wearing his gauntlets, or this situation would have resolved in a very different fashion. </p><p>“Get on your knees. Degenerate.” </p><p>Sylvain already is. Of course, he knows it’s where he’s meant to be. Felix has put in many hours of hard work to achieve such a reaction; Sylvain was not as simpleminded as other men liked to believe. Here and now, he belonged to Felix. He was Felix’s to command. </p><p>He’s rosy. Easy. Ripe. Ready to be taken. The whore’s probably already prepared himself, slick and opened. Sylvain couldn’t wait—never could—never misses a chance. </p><p>“Eyes on me.”</p><p>Sylvain is most beautiful like this, chin tipped up and trembling, glazed eyes following the curve of Felix’s finger as he coaxes him forward. His lips are loose, as always, glossy—pink and swollen from the tug of Felix’s teeth. He’s a vision, but he’s not a saint—far from it. He’s not a demon either, he couldn’t flatter himself there. He is simply Sylvain, disrobed to the barest bones of humanity, seconds from splitting the skin, milliseconds from marking the marrow, but he won’t, because Felix is there to hold him together. Trust is the bridge built upon their backs where they polish their pledge—on and off of the field. In public, and in private. </p><p>In glory and in disgrace, Sylvain is beautiful. He’s beautiful and he’s disgusting, and he’s beyond even Sothis’ to save. Felix has never seen Sylvain look so depraved. </p><p>Desperate? Yes. Desperate painted every movement the damn Paladin made—every decision he considered that became a mistake was born out of the perverse need to be punished. But the restrained heaving of his chest? The minuscule fleck of honey brown under fluttering eyelashes, swallowed by the pitch-black wilderness of pupils? The white at his knuckles where blood cut off by nails digging into his flesh? Depraved. </p><p>Felix reaches forward, plunging his hand directly into the burning bush covering Sylvain’s head, pulling him up and over and exactly where he wants him. He rests the toe of his boot directly over the bulge of Sylvain’s crotch. </p><p>“Did you fuck yourself before you came here? Is that why you’re already so ruined?”</p><p>Sylvain groans, shifting the slightest bit, seeking the contact of Felix’s foot on his dick—though Felix has not given him permission. The hand in Sylvain’s hair tightens, and his next breath cuts off. Fear and excitement appear to fall under the same category with Sylvain. Bastard probably had a constant boner during missions and those five long years of fighting.</p><p>Sylvain stills, a little drool already leaking out the side of his mouth at the mere whisper of manhandling. Felix smirks, watching the line of spit widen when he twists his fingers—unhurried. This is what he loves to see. </p><p>“You’re a mess, Sylvain.” </p><p>He lowers the foot—just an inch should do—ghosting over the bulge that has noticeably increased in size. Sylvain remains very still, his body sleeping as if imitating the dead. Felix’s ears strain to pick up the pattern of his breath. Once he's satisfied with Sylvain’s discipline he presses the point against the small, dark stain blooming on the front of his pants—lightly, cruelly so. </p><p>“<em>Felix…</em>” Sylvain blows his name out like no prayer he’s ever heard before—not that he cared to listen to anyone who called him before Sylvain came. “<em>Please. Don’t stop there</em>.”</p><p>“I’ll stop where I see fit.” Felix twists as he presses harder, drawing a whine from Sylvain’s collared throat. He pries Sylvain’s jaw down further, looking at the useless tongue extend. Sylvain pants, working to take Felix’s thumb in his mouth and Felix allows it, brushing against the ridges of Sylvain’s teeth, paying careful attention to the canines. </p><p>Sylvain swallows him, trying to pull more fingers into his mouth. He bumps clumsily against Felix’s hand, bringing his own up to wrap around Felix’s wrist. Felix strokes the side of his face, blowing hot air on the top of Sylvain’s forehead, removing his foot and resting it on the ground between Sylvain’s thighs. </p><p>“How badly do you want to come right now? You look terrible.” He nudges at Sylvain’s cock, harder and harder until Sylvain’s thighs are closing the gap inadvertently. Soon enough, he’s stuck there and Sylvain is moving against him, heavily-lidded eyes staring right through him as he sucks and moans on the three fingers he managed to slip over his tongue. </p><p>It’s filthy, and so very like Sylvain to have no reservations about fucking anything that willingly came so much as ten feet within the radius of his dick. Felix could let him come in his pants, but there’s no challenge in that. He pulls Sylvain up by his hair—gently enough, at first, so he understands the direction—guiding his husband’s face until it is nestled into the black curls framing his mound.</p><p>“Eat then. Do a good enough job and I’ll consider letting you fuck my thighs.” </p><p>Sylvain’s ears twitch alongside the eager noise that rumbles into a purr. Felix eases back onto the desk, both hands in Sylvain’s hair, impatiently tugging as he spreads his legs to make room for Sylvain’s broad, freckled shoulders. Sylvain’s fingers press high into the flesh on the inside of his thighs, continuing to move until they’re parting Felix’s folds, running a finger from his wet hole to the tip of his cock—rubbing slick lightly over it.</p><p>“<em>Goddess</em>.” He turns his face to the side to kiss the connection at his groin, inhaling the musk. “So handsome, Fe.”</p><p>Felix grunts, raising his hips to pull Sylvain to his center. Sylvain goes easily, leading now instead of being led, training his eyes upward in worship. There they are entwined, eyes and thighs and Sylvain’s mouth sealing over Felix’s cock, tongue pressing firm against it. Felix runs his thumb over the ridge of Sylvain’s arched brows as he sets to work, his gaze never faltering, drinking in the stars as if the moon was absent and it was all he had to govern the night sky. </p><p>It only takes the lightest of pressure for Felix to shut his eyes, rolling waves down into the security of Sylvain’s mouth. Sylvain’s tongue is quick and agile—unrelenting—searching him, lips tingling on the sides of his folds, teeth ever so softly reminding him of the fiend he locks away inside. Felix’s fingers stroke his ears, finding a rhythm that matches the swish of Sylvain’s tail, trembling slightly at the vibrations of his purr and the bumps of his tongue lapping at his little cock. It’s almost too much, yet not quite enough, and bordering on torturous the longer he allows it to go on. His abdomen is full of fire, a bushel of overstimulated nerves that tips over when Sylvain slides two fingers inside of his hole—fucking him while he sucks him off. There is a mischievous glint in the premonition of crows feet that only crinkle when his mouth is so busy the muscles of his face must work to find secret ways to maintain his smile. </p><p>Felix scrambles as best as he can to adjust to the sensations, hand sweeping some of the paperwork off onto the floor. “Warn me before you do that.” He manages to deliver the command without wavering, though his abdomen jerks between words and he almost swallows his tongue at the end.</p><p>Sylvain merely presses harder against him and laughs, half because he knows what the vibration does to him, and half because he just loves burying his face into any part of Felix’s body whenever he can. The fingers slide deeper, squelching too loud for Felix to cover with an embarrassed cough. He knows what he looks like by now—can feel the burn of his cheeks, his stomach, his thighs, threatening to crack Sylvain’s head like a watermelon. Sylvain’s face is drenched when he surfaces to suck a seconds worth of air before he spends it all sighing high into Felix’s exposed mound. They’re both deep into panting as he pulls the hood back to show specific, consistent attention to Felix’s swollen head. </p><p>Felix leaks between the slots of his fingers, hissing as he holds Sylvain’s face firmly in place. Sylvain sucks him through the throbs—mouth not only accepting his release, but always seeking more. He pops off with a satisfied mewl, licking his lips and afterward cleaning the slick from his hand as best as he can to savor the taste.</p><p>“Satisfied?” Sylvain rasps, breathing heavily around the slide of Felix’s hands nesting at his throat. His thighs must ache now by the way he has been kneeling, just as much as his untouched cock aches to be freed, but Felix has not exhausted the blaze quite yet, and the pyre roars to life once more by the embers of his life partner’s adoring gaze. </p><p>Sylvain does not move as Felix regains his composure, slinking from the desk with purpose. Felix lingers at the corner of the room awhile—watching—calling for him to place his hands together at the small of his back, retrieving the red rope that he runs along Sylvain’s spine twice before he loops it in an intricate pattern around his arms and chest, slipping a finger under the wrist and tugging—ever so slightly. </p><p>“How will you beg this time, Sylvain?” He taunts, hands testing the circulation, working their way up the freckled muscles bulging under the restraints. They continue, nails tracing the expanding ribs, dipping into the hollow of collar bones before closing the gap, squeezing the sides of Sylvain’s neck. “Without your voice? All of your filthy poetry, your body—your life—in my hands?” </p><p>Felix’s foot presses into the meat of his inner thigh, close enough to feel the heat of Sylvain’s cock, close enough that either of them could reach an agreement with something as innocuous as a cough. He rolls a portion of his weight forward, feeling the resistance of that damn equestrian muscle, the tension of one who is so accustomed to closing around impact it’s become a habit akin to breathing, and rides a second rush at the short wheeze Sylvain takes from the release of his hands around his neck into the whites of his eyes. </p><p>“Always was, Fe.” The tears tickle there—watery lines behaving—waiting for permission to fall. Their presence matches the whisper. Another secret smile, reserved only for Felix. “All of it. Yours.” </p><p>“Mine.” Felix’s fingers echo the sentiment, tracing the ropes, scratching just underneath, just enough that Sylvain jerks forward into Felix’s boot and cries. “<em>Mine</em>.” He reiterates, pinching a nipple, clawing the now raw flesh of his tits—perfectly cupped and cherry-red—stepping on the erection with full abandon, relishing the squeak followed by a sob that is Sylvain’s admittance to his predicament.</p><p>That ring on his finger is merely an emblem. Here is where true devotion is practiced. Here is where Sylvain hands himself over, willingly. Here is where, for the blissful moments that time is suspended, Felix owns him. </p><p>“Fe-lix.” A name. Two syllables, one breath. An impossible weight tied to it, looped, extending from the space of cracked lips to galaxies beyond. Felix catches it, the taste of stardust, the craters of the moon, the eternity of two black holes drawing him to their center until the pressure causes his being to implode. “<em>Felix</em>.” The cosmos swell. Sylvain’s voice gravitates—dark and dangerous—eager as the obsidian veil claims the aftermath of a supernova. </p><p>Felix lifts the lid. One hand on Sylvain’s chin—trusting, gentle—one hand unfastening Sylvain’s cock from silken confinement, carefully stroking.</p><p>“Good. You’ve been so good for me.” </p><p>Sylvain slumps over, edging more of his length into Felix’s palm—tasting the beads of sweat that are unintentionally swallowed, lured by the moans his husband cradles, soothing his open jaw. </p><p>“Get up.” He watches the words twist in Sylvain’s stomach like a fist closing around his heart. “Unless you want me to finish you here?” </p><p>Felix says no more, slipping a finger once again under Sylvain’s collar, pulling him to his feet. He wobbles there momentarily, tail swishing and wrapping around Felix’s thighs, ears brushing the top of his head as he tips toward him. Felix turns the tumble into a kiss that is more of a growl—a tug of war that ends with wolf pinning cat on the soft pelt rug in the hearth of the office floor. </p><p>“Thought you wanted me to get up…” Sylvain’s jaunty complaint transitions into a shocked silence when Felix squeezes the head of his cock, turning over and coaxing it to rest between his thighs. He spits into his hand, giving the shaft a few strokes before he closes his legs around it, settling his back against Sylvain’s chest, which is already trembling. </p><p>“I…” Sylvain begins, drool interrupting him just as much as Felix’s hand slapping his ass while he grinds his little cock against Sylvain’s, sliding to spread some of the new slick of his arousal where spit failed to cover it. </p><p>“Shut up Sylvain.” Felix grits through teeth that are dying to close around the other’s throat just as his earlier hands did. “Move. Unless you want me to leave you like this.” </p><p>A single devastated “<em>fuck</em>” is all Felix hears from him in the following minutes. Sylvain bites at the junction of his shoulder, finally allowing the tears to fall with Felix’s ordinance. The urgency of the word digs deeper into Felix than Sylvain’s canines can, tearing at the strings of his restraint. Felix’s hand only relinquishes its bruising hold on Sylvain’s ass when he lifts it to slap again, directing him to work harder.</p><p>Sylvain knows exactly which angle to work, even with his hands tied and useless. His thighs are powerful enough to control whatever speed he sets and the bastard takes a little revenge by switching it up, edging Felix to the point where he is clenching and rubbing back and forth in return. His tongue swipes across the back of Felix’s neck, tracing the faded ivory scars and the new indents with the same reverence.</p><p>“Gross.” Felix grumbles, but arches despite his claim, body buoyant under all of the twisting and bouncing. He’s starting to feel dizzy, frantic, and very, very hot. Sylvain’s cock pokes up into his hole and he gasps, bearing down in surprise for the next few thrusts before the intense pressure pops it out again. </p><p>“So tight.” Sylvain grunts, moving faster. “Everywhere, Felix. You’re just so tight, feel so <em>good</em>.” </p><p>Felix presses his thighs even closer together, hand grasping at the blur of heightened emotions and the pounding of his heart in his chest. The fire scorching his abdomen continues to move south, barely coming with a warning, and it only takes a few tugs of his cock before he is gone, squirting all over Sylvain’s cock, sending some of the sweet, clear liquid soaring to stain the pelt—some more dripping down to slip in the momentary gap when Sylvain pulls all the way back.</p><p>Sylvain keens at the warm liquid making Felix’s thighs all the more slippery, and shudders a few seconds later, spurting his own response, coating Felix’s thighs and part of the walnut colored rug white. </p><p>Felix spreads his legs, griping while Sylvain catches his breath, and swings one of them over Sylvain’s shoulder, dangling the heat of his hole inches from Sylvain’s lips. </p><p>“Clean it up.” He leers at the mess soaked deep into the expensive fabric. His father would pull out all the pathetic little hairs surrounding his lips if he were alive to see it. “I’ll have someone take care of this later.” </p><p>It’s a bit unfair to ask Sylvain to break his neck trying to crane into a position where he could reach everything while he’s bound, so Felix compromises, lowering himself until Sylvain’s tongue is easily and eagerly removing all of the mess. He grinds down a few more times at specific points for good measure, scoffing fondly when he rolls away and Sylvain whines at the sudden loss. </p><p>“So,” Felix sits back, rubbing the flecks of their various fluids at the top of his boots with a slight frown. “Was it worth it?” </p><p>Sylvain grins—a particularly dopey expression that doesn’t fade into a wince, even after Felix pulls the ropes loose enough to fall from his body—and rubs at his wrists. The next course of action he decides to take is—annoyingly—pulling Felix into an embrace before rolling onto his back, holding him hostage.</p><p>“Every moment.” He laughs, nuzzling his grumpy retired swordsman.“As long as I’m with you.”</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am on <a href="http://twitter.com/thefriedpipes">twitter</a>! Come talk more about fe3h with me 🤗</p></blockquote></div></div>
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